


Just a Trim

by avespika



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7657984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avespika/pseuds/avespika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hair stylist Clara AU. The Doctor needs an emergency trim and only has one option. Clara is bored at work but this strange man has nice hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Trim

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone loves Twelve's hair so...

Clara Oswald was always the last to leave the salon. She hummed to herself as she swept away the final bits of hair scattered across the floor. With a bit of luck she’d be out the door quickly tonight, giving her a little time to study before sleeping. She moved to fetch the dust pan, her back to the door, when the bell above the entrance rang.

“Sorry, we’re closed. Hours tomorrow are nine in the morning to nine in the evening.”

“Oh. Do you know anywhere still open? It’s a bit of an emergency.” 

“And what sort of emergency, exactly, requires a haircut?” Clara turned and found an unusual man standing in the doorway. He was tall but hunched slightly at the shoulders, hands tucked into his pockets. He wore a hole-ridden jumper and had wild grey hair. For a moment Clara wondered if he were a vagrant but, no, he looked harmless aside from the clothing. Still, she reached for the scissors concealed in her apron. Just in case.

The man rubbed the back of his neck. “My cousin’s wedding. Donna’s very particular, and if I show up for the big day tomorrow looking like this, well, she’s likely to toss me back out again. I’m all the family she’s got left, and vice versa, so I feel I owe it to her to look, you know, presentable. For once.” He scowled.

Clara laughed. “Oh all right then, if it’s ‘for the bride’ as they say. Sit here.” She gestured to one of the chairs lining the wall. The long-limbed man awkwardly folded himself down into it, crossed his arms, and met her gaze in the mirror.

“Well, at least I won’t have to raise the chair very high to reach the top of your head. I’m Clara Oswald by the way. And you?”

“The Doctor.”

“Okay, Mr. ‘the Doctor,’ what can I do for you today?”

“Just a trim, please. I won’t take too much of your time.”

“Okay- how much off?”

“The usual amount.”

“Which for you is…”

“How should I know, I can’t see the top of my head. Are you sure you’re a barber?”

“I’m a hair stylist and watch it, _Doctor_ , I’m the only person in this town who’ll cut your hair at nearly ten in the evening on a Friday. How does the person who normally trims your hair do it?”

“Interesting question, I’m not sure I’ve ever had the same person cut it twice.” 

“Hmm.” Clara swept a large black smock over the Doctor. He flinched when she moved to fasten it at his neck. She hoped he wouldn’t be so jumpy when she cut his hair- she didn’t need to take part of his ear off with it. “Let’s get you shampooed, see how long this mess is once we get it straightened out a bit.”

The Doctor froze. “Shampooed? My hair’s clean. Doesn’t need a shampoo. Can’t you just wet it down with that spray thing?”

“I’m afraid that’s not how we do it here. I’ve got to get it smoothed out before I can give you a proper trim.” She placed her hand on his shoulder and felt him recoil. “I promise I don’t bite. Shampoo room’s this way.” 

He continued to glare but rose when she beckoned him and followed her back to a row of sinks. Clara sat him in a chair, wrapped a towel at the base of his neck, and guided his head back into a sink. She tested the water on her wrist and, once it was warm enough, began running it through his hair.

“So, where are you from?”

“Oh, here and there.” She could feel the tension in his neck.

“Is the sink too high or low? I can adjust it.”

“Sink’s fine.”

“Alright then.” Apparently he wasn’t interested in small talk. Just as well. She squeezed out some shampoo and buried her hands in his hair, scrubbing at his scalp. He had nice hair, she decided, thick and curly but oddly soft. She worked her way back, massaging the shampoo into the hair at the base of his neck. 

The Doctor gave a small sigh, then immediately flushed red. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s ok- people have involuntary reactions all the time. It feels nice, having someone playing with your hair like this. Happens constantly.”

“Still-”

She met his eyes, blue-grey and open wide under raised eyebrows. She decided she was liked this strangely fragile man. If nothing else he’d made her dull day more interesting. She thought she’d change the topic to distract him from whatever was making him behave so peculiarly. “I’m going to rinse you now. Then conditioner, then we can get down to the cutting.”

He nodded, his head still cradled in her hands. Clara smiled down at him and he gave a brief, tight smile back. 

“So, ah, what made you decide to be a what-ever-you-call it, a hair stylist?”

Clara paused as she worked the conditioner into his hair. No one ever asked her that here. “Well, I’m studying to be an English teacher, actually. I started working here as a shampoo girl. I kept at it and trained to become a stylist. Now I work to pay for uni. It’s taking me a bit longer to finish my degree than the usual route seeing as I only attend part time but I’m getting close now.”

“That seems like a responsible way to do things.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is. What do you do?”

“Write travel guides. Ever hear of ‘The Doctor’s Guides to the Universe’ series? Those are mine.”

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve got one of those. My friend Adrian gave me one when we finished sixth form and I said I wanted to take a gap year and go to Brazil.” She returned to rinsing the conditioner out of his tangle of silver hair. 

“That’s one of the volumes I’m happiest with, did you go?” He was grinning now. “I recommended Fortaleza for a reason, I hope you listened.” 

“No. No I never did make it there. Maybe someday.”

She sat the Doctor up and wrapped his head in a fluffy towel, circling behind his ears. 

“I sincerely hope you get the chance. It isn’t to be missed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Once again she seated him in her salon chair, both of them facing the mirror. Clara ran a comb through the heap of damp silver atop the Doctor’s head and pulled a section of it up with her fingers. “You know, we could just leave it. You’re roughly a month and half out from enough for a man bun.”

The Doctor looked indignant. “Donna would absolutely murder me. Actually, I might murder me. A man bun, really.”

“Relax, I’m joking.” She took her other fingers and settled them below the first set. “About this much off? Should be enough to still have some volume without all the unruliness.”

“That should do, thanks.”

Clara pulled out a pair of scissors and got to work, neatly trimming the top and sides of the Doctor’s head. Fortunately he seemed to have grown used to her touch. She only came close to nicking his ear once, when she accidently caught his eyes in the mirror and lost herself for a moment, thinking what it might be like to run her hands through his hair properly, once it was dry and while he was kissing her. She quickly shook off the fantasy- working late always did funny things to her head. 

He talked a bit more about his travels, made a few recommendations, and asked her more about her coursework. For someone initially so off-putting she came to find him warm and charming. He made her laugh and he made her think, something few of her clients over the years had been able to do. 

Finally the Doctor’s cut was complete. Clara gave him a quick blast with the hair dryer then, because she couldn’t resist, she quickly ran a hand through the top, separating out the wavy curls and feeling the soft strands glide between her fingers. He looked up at her with a smile, as different from his earlier scowl as his present tidy trim was from the rowdy shock of hair he’d had less than an hour before. 

“You clean up nicely,” Clara said as she brushed off his shoulders. He examined himself in the mirror, turning this way and that. 

“You’ve managed to make me look like I haven’t just spent four months living in a tent in Botswana, so I’d say the proper compliment is you clean me up nicely,” he replied. “What do I owe you?”

Clara wanted to say ‘breakfast, tomorrow,’ but instead she settled for the more conventional price, “fifteen pounds.” He handed her a few bills, nodded at her, and left the shop. Clara looked down at the mass of grey hair coating the floor and sighed. Another ten minutes of sweeping followed by tidying the sinks. It would certainly be a late night, best get to work. She bent to pick up the broom when the bell over the door chimed again. “I’ve already done one emergency hair cut tonight and I’ve got to sleep some time so, sorry, no more,” she called over her shoulder. 

She looked up and found the Doctor was in the doorway, hands again tucked into his pockets and shoulders hunched. “Err, about that. I have a different emergency this time.”

Clara raised an eyebrow. “A different emergency that requires a hairdresser? Or is it an English teacher you need this time?”

“Ummm. Actually. You see, I sort of told Donna I’d, ah, bring someone. Tomorrow, to her wedding. To stop her nagging, is all, because she said it bothers her that I’m always alone.” He chuckled nervously. “And, well, like the haircut, I managed to leave it to the last moment. So, what I’m asking, is- would you mind too much coming with me to my cousin’s wedding tomorrow?”

“First the weirdest hair cut I’ve ever given and now the oddest invitation I’ve ever received.” She watched his face fall as he turned to leave. “Wait! I didn’t say no, I was just surprised.”

His face brightened again. “So you’ll do it?”

He was prickly and sweet at the same time and she never took risks anymore. She found she missed it and she was eager to give it another go. She stepped forward, abandoning the broom. “Oh, why not. What time tomorrow?”

“Wedding’s at three, meet you here at two?”

“Sounds great.”

 “Until then, Clara.”

It felt good to be impulsive. She raised herself up on her toes and brushed a kiss to his cheek. “Until then, Doctor.” 


End file.
